1 minus 1 plus 1 equals?
by Swissmounty
Summary: Mathematics again, a cunning hamster and a frightening female. Crossover Streets of San Francisco – Ironside, co-written by Briroch and Mounty Swiss, originally as a birthday present for Tanith. Thank you, Tanith, for permitting us to publish it!
1. Chapter 1

**1 minus 1 plus 1 equals...?**

Mathematics again, a cunning hamster and a frightening female.  
 _Crossover Streets of San Francisco – Ironside, co-written by Briroch and Mounty Swiss, originally as a birthday present for Tanith. Thank you, Tanith, for permitting us to publish it!_

 **March 24** _ **th**_ _ **, 1970, top floor of police headquarters, San Francisco**_

Chief Robert Ironside was a little surprised when he rolled down the ramp into his office. He cocked his head in his unique way, trying to work out the meaning of what he saw. It was a very self-controlled way of expressing his astonishment, or so he thought. The sight in front of his eyes would have justified a much more vehement reaction:

Two legs were sticking out from under his bed. The extreme length of these legs and the fact that they were clad in brown suit trousers led to the strong presumption that they belonged to his assistant Ed Brown. Yet – although Ironside didn't always understand his somewhat clumsy right hand man's actions he still found it disconcerting that he would be working under his bed. And working was what he was supposed to do, wasn't it?

"Sergeant!" he shouted, and the long legs jerked. Yet the loud bang he heard wasn't caused by the brisk movement of these legs, but by a skull colliding with the base of the bed.

The Sergeant wriggled his long frame out of the narrow space and into daylight, looking slightly dusty and bedraggled. Throwing his boss a reproachful look he rubbed the bump on his head. "Since you insisted that Mark oil your wheels yesterday, one can't hear you anymore when you come in!"

"You don't expect me to knock at my own door, do you?! What in flaming blazes were you doing under my bed?"

The detective sighed. "I was looking for Bobby."

The former Chief of detectives was famous for his fast thinking, and rightly so. "The cat's name is Andy, and it is on the stove busy stealing my chili," he informed Brown acerbically.

Ed shot up like a rocket, bumping into the nightstand in his way. The police department's beloved black cat was indeed sitting on the stove and pleasurably licking his mouth. "No. That's not possible," Ed whispered.

"It's not only a possibility, it's the sad truth."

"You don't understand, Sir."

"I don't?! Then stop talking nonsense and tell me what's going on!"

Absentmindedly Ed dusted his pants. "Steve Keller has got a hamster lately. His name is Bobby. Or probably rather _was_. I'm afraid Andy caught him."

Ironside started to understand why Andy looked like the cat that got the canary... or rather the hamster...

 _ **March 19**_ _ **th**_ _ **(5 Days earlier), in Mike Stone's office:**_

Mike Stone sat in his office and watched the dramatic scene that was unfolding in front of him with amusement. His young partner Steve Keller was on the phone and Mike was willing to bet his bottom dollar that he was talking to a female. When he took the call he had been pleasantly surprised and turned around, away from Mike's prying eyes. But from the body language Mike could tell that the call wasn't going as expected. Although he could only see his friend's back he could tell from the way the muscles tensed up that something was afoot. The free hand was gesticulating wildly; the voice grew louder so that Mike could just about make out a few words like - _Not true! No way! Please, don't do this to me!_ Then he checked himself and continued the conversation in a whisper. He hung up the phone, a picture of utter dejection.

Mike made another bet with himself. The way Buddy boy looked he would come in for coffee and sympathy in less than five - no, three minutes, he corrected himself. Steve staggered in and sank on the chair facing Mike. He hid his face in his hands.

"Oh Mike, this is terrible, this is the worst thing that could have possibly happened…" his voice broke with emotion.

 _Oh boy, this is worse than I thought…_ Mike gave Steve's shoulder an encouraging pat and went for coffee and a candy bar from the vending machine in the hall. He put the coffee on the desk in front of his protégé and handed him a chocolate bar. "There now, nothing is as bad as it seems. " When he got no reply he asked: "Did Angela dump you?"

Steve looked up. "Angela? No, why… but come to think of it, I'd better break up with her before it is too late…"

Now Mike was completely stumped. So this hadn't been a breakup with the current girlfriend? Mike was getting a bit worried now. "Steve, will you tell me what's going on or do I have to shake it out of you?"

"Mike, it's my aunt, or rather my grandaunt or rather both of them!" Steve wailed.

Mike took a deep breath. "Did someone die?"

"Oh no, far worse, she's coming to visit!"

Mike was getting impatient now. "Don't be ridiculous now and pull yourself together. What's so bad about a visit?"

Steve looked at him dolefully. "You don't understand, she's not your standard cuddly old dear, she is more like a fiend in human form…"

Bit by bit Mike managed to get the full story.

Steve's grandaunt Mathilde, a sprightly lady in her early eighties from Munich, came to visit the American relatives every two to three years. Normally Steve got away lightly, his Aunt Ruth entertained and housed the old dear and Steve was only expected to appear for the odd visit and be polite.

"And now Aunt Ruth tells me that she can't have her as she is in hospital…" Steve sighed and a cloud of horror spread over his face. "She wants me to put her up! For three weeks! I bet you, Aunt Ruth broke her arm on purpose to escape that visit!"

"You're really getting paranoid there." Mike scolded. "Come on, she can't be that bad! I suppose you've got some downtime coming…"

"Please, Mike, please, don't do this to me, I can't possibly be at home with her all day, meeting her in the evenings will be bad enough, but all day!" he gulped.

Mike was amused. He had always thought that his partner simply liked females, no matter what vintage and that he was popular with ladies of all ages in return. Now, that was a new one!

"Buddy boy - tell me what is so terrifying about this aunt? Does everybody in your family feel the same about her?"

Steve hesitated. "I guess my uncle is quite fond of her and apart from some issues over cooking I think Aunt Ruth likes her, too."

"So what's your beef with her then?" Mike was intrigued. What he experienced here was a completely different side of his young partner.

Steve cringed with embarrassment, but he knew that once Mike was onto something he would never let up. "Well… first of all she treats me like a baby and calls me all kinds of stupid pet names!"

Mike suppressed a laugh and decided to see how far he could wind up his friend today. He made some sympathetic noises and started adjusting Steve's collar and tie. "There, that's a good boy!"

Steve shot him a black look and swatted his hand away. "Oh you! I expected a bit of sympathy and you are making fun of me!"

Mike patted the enraged young man's shoulder affectionately. "I'll do better than just offer sympathy. I'll give you a dig out with the formidable aunt but you have to tell me the real reason why she scares the crap out of you."

Steve's annoyance evaporated instantly at Mike's generous proposal and he offered." Everything she cooks contains cabbage of some description…"

Mike didn't buy this for one moment. "And now the real reason, please!" he insisted. "Think about it, Buddy boy, I'm going to help you entertaining the old ancestor, but I want the truth!"

Steve sighed once more. "Okay, if you must know, when I was four or five she brought me a storybook from Germany, something with a long haired guy on the cover."

"Right up your line, isn't it?" Mike tugged at Steve's hair.

"Will you let me tell the story or do you not want to hear it?" Steve was a bit annoyed. After all, he was at the point of revealing his biggest childhood fear and Mike was making fun of him.

"I'm waiting with bated breath and won't interrupt you again!" Mike promised.

Steve looked at him suspiciously but continued. "All the pictures were gruesome, a little girl burning up, a boy holding an umbrella being blown away in a storm, a kid starving because he wouldn't eat…"

"Anchovies?" Mike couldn't resist the quip.

Steve chose to ignore it, after all Mike's support entertaining the visitor might prove crucial to his own survival. He sincerely hoped that Mike would be able for his aunt.

"When she started translating the stories for me…" he shuddered. "I had nightmares for weeks."

Mike did his best to hide a smile; he knew it wasn't fair to make fun of somebody's childhood trauma, but still…

"Okay, Buddy boy, I get it. She is pretending to be kind and then strikes. I'm forewarned now and I'll guard your back." He deadpanned but then the laughter broke through. "And I make sure she won't read you any bedtime stories!"

Steve's laughter was a bit strained, but he felt slightly more confident about the ordeal ahead of him, knowing that he had the practical Mike on his side.

"Well, Steve my boy, the clock is ticking, what do you have to do to prepare for the onslaught of the aged battle axe?"

"I suppose I'd better find a good reason to break up with Angela, before I am forced into marrying her."

Mike nodded and tried to appear serious. "Yes, that would be a disaster! But what about cleaning your apartment?" he suggested.

"I guess. I'd better hire a cleaning service… and I suppose I should buy a few saucepans and frying pans. She loves cooking!" He shuddered when he thought of many childhood meals provided by his relative. "I may even have to take her shopping…"

Mike tugged at Steve's fashionably long hair again and the young man reacted to the prompt. "Yeah, I suppose getting a haircut would cut out a lot of nagging." The next sigh was so deep, that it really touched Mike's heart. "I'll have to find someone to mind the hamster. Auntie doesn't like anything that resembles a mouse…"


	2. Chapter 2

_**March 24**_ _ **th**_ _ **, Ironside's office**_

"Why in blazes was that flaming hamster here in the first place?" Ironside wanted to know.

"Steve has a visitor for three weeks, an old grand-aunt or something from Europe, and she's afraid of mice."

"A hamster is not a mouse, is it?!"

"No, but Steve wasn't sure if his grand-aunt would notice the difference before going into hysterics. Therefore he asked me to take care of Bobby for the time being. He brought me the cage with the hamster just this morning. Somehow Bobby must have gotten out. I didn't even know Andy was here."

Secretly Ironside had to agree with his assistant: the suspect looked terribly as if he had got himself outside the hamster for breakfast. Before starting with the chili, that was.

"The kid will be devastated." And it was all Ed's fault.

"Mike Stone brought the cat up because they expect a group of dog handlers today. Said that the poor beastie would be frightened to death." Ironside liked dogs and he didn't have anything against cats, but he found the department's fuss about this particular animal rather ridiculous. And now a hamster causing his Sergeant to neglect his duties... that was definitely over the top!

But when he saw the tender-hearted young man's dejected face he took pity of him. Of course he wouldn't have the heart to tell Steve Keller that his pet was dead. And that it was his beloved cat who had caused the untimely demise. "Do you remember what that hamster looked like?" He expected a positive answer, since he had trained the man himself.

Ed closed his eyes, then he nodded. "Yeah, he was a Syrian hamster, medium size, classical colors brown and..."

"Don't trouble me with the details! I only want to know if you can find a similar one."

Brown was baffled. "Chief, that's... you mean, I could... right now...?"

"Of course right now. That kid detective may come up any moment and ask how his furry friend is doing."

"I, I ... thank you, Sir!" The sergeant picked up his jacket and hurried up the ramp.

"Take all the time you need – up to thirty minutes!" the older man shouted after him.

* * *

 _ **Same time, San Francisco International**_

Meanwhile Mike and a very nervous looking Steve with slightly shorter hair than usual were waiting at the airport for the arrival of the dreaded aunt. "Maybe she didn't make the flight- you know? Old people often get sick very unexpectedly and can't travel…" Steve sounded hopeful.

Mike ran his hand through Steve's short hair. "And you would have shorn your locks for nothing? I hope not! Besides, wouldn't have somebody contacted you if she couldn't travel?"

Steve nodded sadly. "I guess…"

"And Steve, think of her old age, how many more years will she be able to travel? This might be the last time and you will have to make it memorable for her."

Steve seemed to perk up at that thought, but his face clouded over again when he pointed at a small white haired lady who approached with quite a spring in her step. "Here she comes…" he sighed and with a forced smile rushed to greet her.

Mike hung back and enjoyed every second of the scene. The old lady shrieked with joy and a long and loud exclamation in German followed. She pulled a reluctant Steve to her ample chest and smothered him with kisses, stroked his hair, patted his cheeks and kissed him again. Steve squirmed and tried to get out of the firm head lock, but to no avail. Mike decided it was time to come to the rescue and break up the joyful- or not so very joyful- reunion of grandaunt and grandnephew. The distraction of a new arrival proved to be enough for Steve to wriggle free and make the introductions. "Auntie, this is my partner Lieutenant Mike Stone!"

She looked Mike up and down and pinched Steve's cheek. "You mean- your boss, don't you, Stiefelchen?" She held out her hand to Mike and smiled. In spite of Steve's horror stories Mike genuinely liked what he saw. Okay, being at the receiving end of her affection must be something else, but…

"I'm so happy to meet you, Mr Stone!" In spite of the heavy accent, her English was very good, Mike was pleased to notice. "You know, my nephew in Munich is with the police and he tells me the most exciting stories." She gushed.

"I can't wait to hear them, but for now why don't I get your luggage while you catch up with Steve here!" he suggested.

"Oh no, let the boy deal with the suitcase. A man in your position shouldn't have to deal with such things any more. That's why my nephew Herbert has his assistants…"

Steve nodded in agreement and rushed off to collect the suitcase, but Mike found that he took his sweet time returning.

By the time they arrived at Steve's apartment and Aunt Matilda had disappeared in the bathroom to freshen up, Steve was worn out by the constant stream of chatter and sank on the sofa, exhausted.

"I don't understand what you are on about! I think she is really cute!" Mike chided. "Reminds me a bit of the old aunts from my mother's side."

Steve was less than convinced. "She doesn't pinch your cheeks and calls you Stiefelchen!" he complained.

"Actually, I meant to ask you this- what is the meaning of this Stevelken business?"

"Oh, some German diminutive of Steve, I think." The young man blushed ever so slightly. "And Mike, please, if you are my friend, don't EVER call me that!"

Mike realized that there was a time and a season for everything, but now was not the time for teasing.

"Steve, how about I drop you off in the Bureau to finish the reports and I bring your aunt to the shops. And then we'll pick you up and take her out for dinner." Mike suggested and was rewarded with a look of heartfelt gratitude.

"Oh, Mike, I really owe you big time!"

* * *

 _ **Ironside's office**_

Actually it took Ed until after lunch to find a hamster looking almost like Bobby. He knew that he risked being bawled out by his boss for being late, but it was worth it.

He put the animal into the spacious cage. His stomach was growling because he had skipped lunch, but he didn't care. He got himself a cup of the ever-available brew Mark called 'coffee' and started to work feverishly, hoping to make up for the lost time. There was a series of murders situated in the world of prostitution. Young men as well as prostitutes had been killed. In Sgt. Brown's eyes every killing was an unacceptable waste of life. Still there was a difference. The men consciously put their lives at risk, but what he absolutely couldn't stomach were the deaths of the women, or rather girls. Many of them had come up from the country or from Mexico. They had no money, no proper education and no chance to get out of the swamp. Ed felt that the least he could do was to fight for justice for them, and to prevent further murders.

Keller didn't show up. Only Lt. Mike Stone did. He picked up Andy, who had been sleeping contentedly on Ironside's couch, digesting his extended breakfast. His glance fell upon the hamster cage and he recognized it as being Steve's. "Looks like you had another guest today... thanks for taking care of our menagerie!"

"You owe me four servings of good chili!" grumbled the Chief.

"Didn't you notice that we delivered Andy complete with a can of cat food?" laughed Mike.

"Yes, I did, but the cat didn't bother to open the can. It just devoured what was available!"

Chuckling but not understanding the double meaning of his words Mike left with Andy.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Streets of San Francisco**_

When Mike came back down with the cat, he deposited the purring feline on Steve's desk. He felt that Steve could probably do with the presence of the cat for comfort.

"We'll leave you to your work and collect you later when we're done with our shopping." Mike winked at Steve and guided Aunt Mathilde out of the office, where she had been busy showing baby photos of Steve to his amused colleagues.

Mike and Matilda Keller had a great time exploring the big supermarkets and the smaller ethnic shops to round up all the necessary groceries Matilda needed for cooking her grandnephew's favourite childhood dishes.

By the time they returned to the Hall of Justice they called each other Mike and Mattie and had swapped lots of stories, as Mike told Steve with a wicked grin.

Things didn't look up for Steve. During dinner in his favourite Chinese restaurant Mike and Aunt Matilda seemed to get on like a house on fire, while a mixture of loving yet disparaging remarks were addressed at Steve regarding the choice of restaurant, the prices, the quality of the fare and his less than enthusiastic way of ingesting the food. The constant stream of conversation had killed what little appetite he had had to begin with. His aunt patted his hand lovingly and looked at him with barely disguised adoration. "No more restaurant food for mein Stiefelchen as long as I am around! Dear Mike here helped me with the shopping and we have everything I need for some proper home cooking!"

Steve swallowed back a reply and a piece of sweet and sour chicken and mumbled a weak "Thank you!"

"He was always a bad eater, even as a child…" she prattled on and Steve winced. It didn't bear thinking what she had told Mike while they were out shopping!

"Now, child, your nice boss is giving you the weekend off so that we can go to Modesto and visit poor Ruth in hospital and check on your Uncle John." She informed him next.

Steve looked at Mike reproachfully, who shrugged his shoulders. "You know, Mattie explained that her nephew in Munich never seems to be working on a Sunday. He seems to solve all his cases during the week, preferably on a Friday night. Maybe we should give this a try while your aunt is here. "

Steve sighed and resigned himself to his fate. "Yeah, yeah, I'm sure we couldn't deprive Aunt Ruth and Uncle John the pleasure of meeting you this weekend. But mind you, I have to report back for duty early on Monday morning, so we'll only stay over for one night!" he warned his aged relative and fixed Mike with a threatening glare.

"That suits me well; it will give me a bit more time to prepare a nice dinner on Monday. You're coming, Mike, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world!" Mike assured her.

"Why don't you bring your girlfriend, Stevie? I'm sure a fine young man like you has a special little lady in his life…"

Mike saw the horror in Steve's eyes and decided to intervene. "Oh, Mattie, it is a sad story, our boy here is uncommonly shy around girls and never really is lucky in love." _At least the second part is not an outright lie,_ Mike comforted himself _, and besides, it's only a white lie really…_

Steve nodded his head in agreement and was rewarded by another loving pat of his cheek. "My poor darling, leave it to Auntie, I'm sure I'll find you a nice and decent girl!"

* * *

 _ **Ironside's office**_

It was about 11 pm when Ironside heard a strange sound in the hall, like somebody lurking there. The Chief wasn't a fearful man, quite on the contrary. But he still didn't like it: For once he was already in bed and therefore really restricted by his handicap. Mark wasn't back from evening school and Ed and Eve had left. Quickly he switched on the light on the nightstand. Suspiciously he glanced at the hamster in its cage. The small animal was indeed running around, but that wasn't the cause of the noise he had heard.

Only a short time ago he'd had to defend himself all alone against an intruder who had intended to kill him*. He knew that he wasn't very popular in the underworld. Too many criminals were blaming him for booking them or their pals, and they were perfectly right. Therefore he had to be careful.

He picked up the revolver which was stored in the drawer of the nightstand. Then he heard that sound again, but this time behind the wall, hidden from his view.

Remembering the close call he'd had not only then but also two years ago when he and Eve had been taken hostage** he had to think of Mark. If he came in without being warned Ironside would not be able to protect him. It was too risky. He would overcome his pride and call for help.

He picked up the phone... but it was dead.

* * *

* See Ironside S3 "One Hour to Kill"

** See Ironside S1 "An Inside Job"


	4. Chapter 4

So the intruders had messed around with the phone, Ironside thought. They had to be smarter than the average criminal.  
On top of everything the door was opened and Mark walked in. "Mark, watch out!" the Chief warned.

The young Afro-American ducked and glanced around, but since he didn't know what to look for he unbent and walked slowly down the ramp. "What's the matter?"

Ironside relaxed. Any intruder who had his wits together would have profited of the situation by now. "Nothing, except that that flaming phone is out of commission. See if it is disconnected!" Hearing strange noises sounded ridiculous now that he wasn't alone anymore.

Mark looked somewhat confused but pulled at the wire. It ended after two yards.

Immediately the Chief understood: the hamster!

The phone had still worked earlier tonight. The hamster Ed had bought was still in the cage. Hence the first one – Robby or something – had to be still around! Dead sure it was the cause of the noise in the hallway. "Mark, there's a second hamster somewhere around. Go get it before it causes more havoc!"

Mark let his schoolbag drop. He yawned. Looking at the cage he asked, "Don't you mean the _first_ one?"

Ironside rolled his eyes. "Call it an Elephant or whatever you want but CATCH THAT BEAST!"

Less than thrilled Mark obeyed. Ten chaotic minutes later he went downstairs to get some reinforcement. Another ten minutes, an overthrown chair, a broken lamp and a torn police uniform later everybody gathered together at the octagonal table. "It's no use," stated Mark. It was hardly news.

"I'll call Ed. He's the one who got us in trouble. It's up to him to find a way to get us out of it," decided the Chief.

Brown sounded a little sleepy at first. "Do you want me to come by and help?" he asked dutifully.

"Not unless you can't tell us what to do!"

In his calm way Ed thought about it for a moment before answering, "Tell them to stop running around."

"Stop running around!" barked Ironside. "They already have."

"Please calm down."

"Calm d...! – They won't calm down until we have that flaming creature, dead or alive!"

The sergeant didn't dare say that he hadn't meant Mark and the officers.

"Can Mark organize an empty toilet paper roll and a towel?"

Ironside took the receiver off his ear and stared at it in disbelief. A toilet roll? A towel? Had the Sergeant gone crazy? Nevertheless he relayed the message, but meanwhile missed the beginning of Ed's further instructions, "... into the paper roll, Mark will throw the towel over it. That way he should be able to catch Bobby."

Well, Ironside wasn't considered the smartest detective east and west of the Rockies for nothing. He didn't have to ask back. "Now keep still for once, all of you!" he barked.

The next five minutes brought the desired success. Mark put Bobby into the cage to his colleague, who didn't seem too enthusiastic. But the cage was more than big enough for two little hamsters, wasn't it?

Mark put the cage into the closet. That way Ironside and Mark would finally be able to get their much needed rest.

* * *

 _ **March 25th**_

The next morning Ed arrived at headquarters much earlier than usually.

The Chief was still in grumpy mode. "What in blazes are you doing?!"

Ed had taken one of the hamsters out of the cage. It was Bobby, but he was the only one who could keep them apart.

"The one I bought is a female. I call her Barry. Unfortunately I couldn't get a male looking like Bobby. But then I thought that it didn't make much of a difference for Steve as long as he had only one hamster. Females usually don't like to be together with males. Barry considers Bobby as an intruder into her territory. And then… females are in estrus about every four days. We don't want to start breeding hamsters, do we?"

Not for the first time Ironside was astonished about his Sergeant's expert knowledge about biology*. Of course he would never have told him that openly.

"If you are through with your lecture we may try to get some work done!" he grumbled.

For a second Ed didn't know what to do with Bobby. Then he snatched two old compendia of crime reports, knowing full well that they might not look the same way within a few days. But they were exactly the right size to divide the cage into two partitions. He put Bobby back, hoping that he would soon find the time to provide him with food and water. Actually there wasn't much hope of getting a minute off on a day like this one...

* * *

 _ **March 27**_ _ **th**_ _ **, Mike Stone's office**_

The following Monday Steve came into work extremely early, too. Before he even took off his beige raincoat he scooped up Andy, the department cat, from the top of the filing cabinet where he liked to hang out and watch intently what was going on. He hugged the small animal to his chest and buried his face in the soft fur.

 _Uh oh, not a good weekend…_ Mike felt a bit guilty but he had thought that bringing Mattie to Modesto might dilute her company a little for Steve. It looked very much as if he may have been wrong there. He beckoned Steve to come into his office. Steve sat down on the chair and settled the purring cat more comfortably. Although the cat certainly enjoyed the attention he was getting, it was Steve who derived some comfort from the presence of the animal. Mike watched them for a minute and then pointed to his own coffee mug. "Coffee?"

Steve shook his head. "No, no more coffee for me, not after the three cups of my aunt's strong coffee that she made me drink."

"Can I offer you a donut instead?" Mike tried again and waved a brown paper bag temptingly.

Once more all he got was a faint shake of the head, though Andy sniffed the bag with some interest. "Better give him a chunk before he claws the bag open!" Steve advised. Andy jumped off his lap and onto Mike's desk where he started on his piece of donut. "The breakfast I had to eat was quite extensive."

"Good, your aunt is right; you can do with a bit of feeding up!"

Steve smiled painfully. "Her breakfast is actually quite nice, but I'm still full from last night and to be honest, I'm not feeling great…" He rubbed his stomach and winced.

Mike looked up with some concern. _For Steve to admit he wasn't well…_ He noticed that his partner was indeed paler than usual. "Buddy boy, do you want to go back home? You really don't look all that hot…"

"No!" there was a hint of panic in Steve's voice. "I'm alright, but she made me Sauerkraut with sausages last night and I can't really digest cabbage so late at night…" He paused and rummaged in the paper bag he had brought with him. "I thought Andy might like the sausages. She made me a sandwich for lunch…" Two pointy black ears pricked up at the mention of his name and the nose turned towards the brown bag. "I take this as a yes." Steve opened up the sandwich, put it on the floor and watched the cat lifting pieces of sausage with his nimble paw.

"You'd better clean up the mess on the floor after your friend has finished his third breakfast." Mike admonished. "Talking of cleaning up after your furry friends, here comes Ed Brown, probably to tell you that your hamster has found his way into Ironside's chili!"

Ironside's sergeant greeted them friendly and threw an apologetic look at Andy. After all he had unjustly suspected him of murder – of Bobby's murder.

"Morning, soldier! How's Steve's hamster?"

"Oh, _Bobby_ 's fine, thanks. But I ask myself where Steve got him. San Quentin?"

It made Steve smile for the first time in a long time. He suspected something...

"Why? What has he done to earn such a punishment?" the Lieutenant wanted to know.

"Oh, nothing. But I assume he's the king of the kings of escape among the hamsters. I don't mind him eating wires and chair legs, but yesterday he nibbled at my new trousers!"

Steve grinned openly now. At least someone else had to bear his fair share of the consequences of Mathilde's visit! "Sorry to hear it! Listen, my aunt is very good at patching clothes. Do you want me to ask her to take care of your pants?"

Ed looked relieved. "That would be very kind of her, thanks!"

This was a great opportunity to keep aunt Mathilde busy, thought Steve. "Why don't you come down for dinner tomorrow night, I'm sure she would love to feed you up a little."

Mike was of the opinion that they could not spend all day chatting about Steve's aunt and hamsters. "Her cooking is great, but you didn't come here because of Steve's hamster, did you?"

"No. It's because of that serial murder in Mission. We were at mortuary and the Chief is of the opinion that the bodies have something in common: There is a faint smell of Whiskey. Ironside says that it might be Jack Daniel's. I can't smell a thing, but you know the Chief – if he says so you better believe him. He wants the lab to get samples of the clothes of the victims and get an analysis of the alcohol. He wants homicide to take care of it."

Mike promised to deal with that problem and Ed left merrily, looking forward to a free meal which might for once not be interrupted by an urgent case.

* * *

* He will be even more in Ironside S7 "Riddle at 24,000"


	5. Chapter 5

_**March 28**_ _ **th**_ _ **, Steve's place**_

As Steve had predicted his Aunt Mathilde was overjoyed to have an extra person to feed. Her joy reached new heights when she realised that the nice young man spoke some German and she started jabbering away happily. With a sigh she said. "Oh, to think that my little pet here never learned any German! I know his father and uncle never spoke the language and I really blame my brother." She prattled on. "I tried get the little one interested in German and brought him storybooks, but somehow he didn't seem to like them."

Mike threw a glance at Steve and saw him grow pale, so he decided to steer the conversation away from the painful subject of the childhood trauma, as soon as he could get a word in edgeways.

"And such a nice haircut!" she remarked next, without stopping for breath, looking Ed up and down. "And the lovely suit and tie! You must tell me where you shop for your clothes, I think Stevie could do with some new suits, he really needs a woman's touch." She leaned closer to Ed. "Would you mind bringing the boy with you the next time you go to the Barber's? He desperately needs a haircut!"

Steve looked at Mike dolefully and the older man really felt sorry for him.

"Sure, Mattie, sure, but where is the food you promised us, we are starving!" Mike interrupted the flow of Mathilde's plans for Steve's makeover.

The old lady beamed with delight. "That's what I like to hear. My little man here eats like a sparrow!" she pinched Steve's cheek on her way to the small kitchen.

Steve rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath. "I bet you a sparrow wouldn't even peck at the blasted cabbage." Then he brightened up a bit. "Actually, tonight shouldn't be too bad, I asked her for my favourite dish, goulash and dumplings, it is quite edible." His eyes widened with horror when he saw his aunt with a big salad bowl.

"Here is some Sauerkraut salad to start with; it's full of vitamins and minerals and really tasty!"

She ladled big portions on everybody's plates. Mike began feeling really sorry for Steve now and scraped most of the salad off the horrified young man's plate onto his own when the aunt wasn't looking. Mike found the salad very tasty indeed and Ed was digging into the pickled cabbage with apple and carrots in a sweet and sour dressing with good appetite. Only Steve turned up his nose and pushed the salad around his plate, willing it to disappear by magic.

Things didn't look up for him when Mathilde served the main course. A big dish heaped with bread dumplings and a tureen of a meaty stew- with cabbage. Steve's face fell. "But, I thought you were going to make goulash!" He couldn't hide his disappointment.

"It is goulash, but Szegediner Goulash, with Sauerkraut. You know, when I went shopping with Mike the only proper Kraut we could get came in a small barrel. Sauerkraut is good for you, mein Stiefelchen!" she explained.

Ed almost choked on a piece of dumpling and starting coughing violently to fight back the fit of laughter that rose from deep within his belly. _Did Steve know…? Obviously, judging by the pained expression on his face. But Mike?_ He excused himself and rushed to the bathroom, where he hid his face in a towel to silence his laugh. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"When you are done laughing, my friend, you'd better tell me the meaning of this Stevelken business." Mike's voice sounded silken, but there was a steely edge in it.

"Oh no, Mike, I couldn't. I'm sure Steve would tell you if he wanted to share it with you …" Ed defended his position.

"Sometimes people are not willing to share, as you should well know, soldier." The voice was definitely menacing now. "Or would you like to share your feelings for Eve Whitfield with the Chief? Or want me to do it for you?"

Ed looked at him horrified. "You wouldn't, would you?"

"Try me. But the easier way is to give!"

Ed sighed and gave it some consideration. "Why don't you ask your pal Mattie?" he stalled.

"Nah, that would be too easy and too embarrassing for Steve!"

"Okay so. Stiefelchen is the diminutive of Stiefel- boot…"

"Bootee! She probably knitted his first bootees, too!" Mike almost doubled over with suppressed laughter, but tried to regain his composure. "Come on, soldier, we have to go back in, there is goulash to be eaten and Steve might need rescuing!"

Once again Mike and Ed devoured the tasty stew and dumplings with enjoyment. Steve ate some of the dumplings that his aunt had heaped onto his plate and picked out the pieces of meat. The strands of cabbage he tried to hide under the uneaten dumplings.

"Here, Steve, take your friend as an example! He cleared his plate like a good boy and is having seconds!" Mathilde chided.

"Oh, Mattie, don't mind the boy, he is not used to such delicacies. This reminds me of a dish our Polish neighbours uses to make." So Mike and Mattie launched into a discussion about the merits of various ethnic dishes. This gave Ed a chance to finish his second portion in peace- and some of Steve's…

After Mathilde had disappeared in the kitchen to organise coffee and dessert Steve looked at Mike accusingly. "It's your fault; you let her buy a vat of Sauerkraut."

"Don't exaggerate now, Buddy boy, it's a small little barrel and there is no harm in throwing the rest out."

"You don't know her, Mike." Steve wailed. "She will never throw food out, least of all cabbage."

Ed thoroughly enjoyed the evening, home cooked food that was not Chili, a chance to finish a meal in peace and the company of the old lady, as long as she was not _his_ aunt…

Aunt Mathilde returned with a big, moist looking chocolate cake and a bowl of whipped cream. "Steve has always liked a nice piece of cake, isn't that right?" she beamed and started dishing out big wedges of cake.

Mike took a mouthful and savoured it. Helen, his late wife had been great at baking and his daughter Jeannie had inherited her talent so he knew his cakes and this cake was delicious! Even Steve started on his wedge without putting up a fight.

"Now Mattie, this cake is fantastic! Would you be willing to share she recipe with my daughter?"

The old lady smiled proudly. "I certainly will! You could never get the same effect without the secret ingredient." She smiled angelically. "You won't believe it, but it's chopped Sauerkraut!"

Steve spluttered and jumped up, heading for the bathroom fast.

His plate slipped over the edge of the table and the remainder of his cake was spilled over Ed Brown's formerly neat and tidy pants. Only his good manners kept the sergeant back from uttering a sharp reply.

Mathilde noticed it with shock. "Oh, Steve, what are you doing! Mr. Brown – don't worry, I will clean your trousers for you! Luckily I have your other pair here. There was not much damage." She came back, and her face suddenly reddened. "But well, I thought... When I saw how long they were I thought that they had to be shortened as well as patched. I never imagined that anybody could have such long legs..."

In contrast to her Ed paled. The way his pants looked now they would end four inches above his ankles. His admiration for aunt Mathilde cooled as much as his sympathy for Steve rose.

Mike had to suppress a smirk. In the department, the sergeant was known for his too-short trousers anyway. "You see, sergeant," he said, "when Mattie here and I were young" – Ed's and Steve's faces both expressed their doubt about them having been young at the same time, since Mathilde had to be at least twenty years older – "we had this English fashion: Knickerbockers. They were quite handsome..."

The phone spared Mike of digging himself in deeper.

It was Rudy. "Steve, is Mike with you?"

Mike quickly swallowed his last bite and took the receiver.

"Mike, we have a lead in the serial murder in Mission. We suspect a pimp to have killed the young men and the prostitutes, probably a man from Tennessee. He may even have brought in some girls from there who work for him. What about sending Steve and Ed Brown out to flirt with some of the ladies? They would belong to the same age group as the victims. I suppose the girls would be inclined to talk to them since they both look rather innocent. Just tell them to be careful."

Mike was less than thrilled. What if the culprit found out that they were cops? They looked innocent all right, but maybe a little _too_ innocent...

Steve saw a chance to escape the dreadful situation he was in. Of course he would do his duty!

Ed had already stood up. His boss always wanted things done yesterday at the latest; therefore he was used to obey orders immediately, no matter where they came from. "Madam, this was the largest meal I had in about a year." It was the truth, since he usually didn't get to finish his plate. "Thank you very much! Steve's a lucky man to have such a caring relative."

 **Streets of San Francisco**

Steve's Porsche took them to Mission district in no time, although they had to stop at Ed's for him to change his pants. Together they left the car and walked into the infamous area, trying to look like two guys out for an adventure.

"Steve, before your time we had a case around the Cockatoo bar. I'm not quite sure if we got everyone who was involved. The Chief always expected more trouble from there. Let's take it from there."

They joked with some of the girls who were waiting at the border of the road – Steve with his quick tongue beating the serious Sergeant most of the time. Instead Ed did the listening. Ironside had trained him well at paying heed to the nuances in someone's words.

Steve had a somewhat bad conscience. He was not very familiar with the serial murder. He'd just been keen on getting away from aunt Mathilde. Usually he was better prepared for his jobs. "Say, Ed – how do you think we can distinguish one pimp from the other?"

A grin went over the taller man's face, but he didn't look very happy. "When we stumble into some action we'll know that we have stirred up something. That's the way it usually happens to me..."

Like on clue a group of men came running out of the next road. Instinctively Ed tried to protect Steve with his taller frame. "Hey, I'm not Eve Whitfield! Let's do this together!" protested Steve.

Back to back they faced the gang. They had blackjacks and knifes. Ed bit his lip. This would be a tough one. Steve felt that they had stumbled into something all right. Aunt Mathilde suddenly didn't seem so daunting anymore.

The ring about them tightened, and the first blows hit home.

The two detectives worked well together though, and for a time Steve hoped that they might be able to resist the superiority in numbers.

But then something hit his head. He cried out and went down heavily. He didn't pass out, but everything seemed to happen behind a wall of cotton wool now. His head felt as if it would explode any moment. He couldn't hear anything, but he saw the Sergeant behind that wall of fog fighting like a tiger. He tried to keep the men away from him, but still some boots collided with Steve's helpless body.

The last thing Steve realized was his friend stumbling and a sudden ear-deafening noise. Then everything went black.

* * *

 _Author Mounty's note:  
Those who know what a bad cook I am will realize that most of this chapter was written by Briroch ;-)_


	6. Chapter 6

The next thing Steve heard, drifting in and out of consciousness, was the wailing of a siren and the flash of blue lights. Both hurt his head, but at the same time he knew that it meant the Cavalry had arrived on time.  
 _But where was Mike_ , he wondered as he felt being lifted onto a stretcher _.  
No, Mike hadn't been here with him, it was Ed Brown he should be looking for_.  
He moved his head ever so slightly and saw the unmistakable lanky figure of Ed Brown sitting at the back of the ambulance, being patched up by a paramedic.  
 _Good, Ed was giving out about the iodine; that must mean he was alright_.  
Steve really wanted to close his eyes and escape the noise and the irritating light, but there was something he was meant to do. He tried to catch the Sergeant's eyes. "Ed, will you let Mike know, but not my aunt! Promise!"

* * *

 _ **Downtown**_

Ed Brown knew that his boss would not be happy about the outcome of this evening. After a short stop at homicide he went up to Ironside's office, convinced that the Chief had already heard what had happened, and that he would expect him to come to report personally.

"Sergeant, what would you have done if I hadn't anticipated that you would start at the Cockatoo bar and sent the Marines after you?"

Ed dropped his dented frame onto the next chair, looking frustrated at his torn pants – the third pair he had ruined today. "I'm sorry. I know that I was too careless." And he wasn't talking about the pants…

"Tell that to Lt. Stone and his kid detective. We wanted you to protect the boy, and now he is in hospital."

Ed didn't answer. He knew that he earned a dressing down. He could only hope that Steve wasn't hurt too badly.

"Why couldn't you just listen if one of the prostitutes talked with a mid-western accent?"

Now Ed nodded. "I will recognize two who talked like that. They stood at the corner Folsom - Seventeenth. We may find them there tomorrow again. And I also recognized one of the attackers. He must have seen me and gathered his gang together. I suppose he had to do with the affair at the Cockatoo bar two years ago. That's why I went to get some of the rogues' galleries." He put them onto the table, starting to scan through the pictures.

Ironside shook his head. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?!"

But when he saw how cramped his assistant's posture was from the blows he had taken his voice softened. "Ed!"

"Sir?"

"Someone else might not have been able to protect that detective kid any better either. It was just bad luck that you were recognized. Leave the mug shots for tomorrow; I think tonight you could do with a shot in your mug!" Ironside held the bottle of Bourbon invitingly over the mug of coffee that Ed was nursing.

* * *

 _ **March 29**_ _ **th**_ _ **, General Hospital**_

Mike Stone discreetly rapped on the door before he peeked in. The first thing he noticed was that although Steve was in bed, he was far from being asleep. On the contrary, he looked agitated and thoroughly miserable.

"Steve, what's wrong with you, are you in pain?" Mike was very concerned. He had talked to the doctor just a few minutes ago and what he had heard had sounded quite positive. Cuts, bruises, a cracked rib and a slight concussion, but nothing to worry about.

Steve shook his head and winced. Sudden head movements were definitely not a good idea.

Mike observed him closely and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "There now, keep your head still and rest for a while. Maybe I'd better go and let you sleep!"

"Nooo!" Steve wailed in horror, "Don't go away! You can't leave me here unprotected."

Mike's concern grew by the minute. Did Steve feel he was under threat? What did he remember of the night before?

"Ah now, buddy boy, don't underestimate Ed Brown, he got a trace on the guys right after he rang me to tell me that you are in hospital."

Steve snorted. "Those fellows? There were just too many of them for the two of us."

 _Okay, so it was not the assailants from the night before that he feared. What had him so upset, then? Maybe there was more damage to the head than the doctors had imagined?_ Mike sat down at the edge of Steve's bed and put his hand on Steve's unbandaged cheek. No temperature, maybe just a bit flushed with excitement… Mike's concern grew to outright worry when Steve didn't swat his hand away or at least protested. Instead he took Mike's hand in his and pleaded. "Mike, please, don't go away or I'll be easy prey."

The older man squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Don't fret now, I won't let anyone harm you but you have to tell me who you are scared of or I won't be able to help you!"

"Do you have to ask? Isn't it plain and obvious? Don't let Aunt Mathilde anywhere near me!"

Mike sighed with relief. At least there was no new paranoia, just the old irrational childhood fear of the aged aunt.

"Come on now, Steve, she's not that bad!"

"Little do you know! She'll fuss and call me all kind of stupid names and lecture me how Cousin Herbert Keller in Munich solves his cases. No running around and getting hurt. All he seems to do is nod his head wisely, smoke and drink some brandy…" the rant went on and on and Mike couldn't get a word in until he put his hand over Steve's mouth and fixed him with a stern look.

"Okay, buddy boy, I get it. You don't want to be released into the care of your aunt." Steve nodded vehemently. "When I remove my hand now I want you to promise me to keep calm and listen." Another nod and Mike took his hand away.

"Mike, could you put her on a plane back to Munich perhaps?" Steve suggested hopefully.

"Steve, apart from you being overly sensitive when your aunt is concerned, there is no way we can keep her away from you."

"A restraining order, perhaps?" Steve put forward tentatively.

"You are raving, my boy, I think they knocked whatever little sense you had out of your head last night!"

Steve turned his head away, a hurt expression on his face. "You don't know her the way I do! You have no idea what her home remedy for bruises and sprains is! Cabbage leaves!"

Mike almost choked with laughter and patted Steve's arm affectionately. "Alright, alright, I get the drift. You promise me to calm down now and I promise you protection." Steve eyed him suspiciously.

"When I talked to the doctor I tried to negotiate an early release from hospital for you, because that's what you normally would want."

Steve sighed.

"The doctor rather wanted to keep you for a few days."

Another, even deeper sigh.

"Come on, Steve, you can't have it both ways. You can stay in hospital and I promise not to let her come here on her own. I'll bring her and make sure she won't even touch you, let alone kiss you. You can pretend you are asleep or whatever."

"I couldn't come home with you and you tell her I'm working undercover or something?" the young man proposed timidly.

"With Jeannie coming home tomorrow? You know my daughter, how long can she keep a secret? Five minutes at the most and then the two of them will combine forces and wrap you in cabbage leaves!"

Steve nodded dejectedly.

"Cheer up, you'll be fine in a few days and maybe we can tell Mathilde that your stomach is too sensitive after the beating to digest cabbage!"

A tiny spark of hope appeared in Steve's eyes.

* * *

 _ **Downtown**_

Shortly after the hospital visit Mike entered Ironside's office. His glance fell on the hamster cage. "Oh, is Bobby back?" he wondered briefly

"Bobby? Is that its name? To me these little beasts look all alike," uttered Ironside.

"Hello Ed, how are you?" Mike asked the sergeant who looked a little worse for wear.

"Fine. Sir, I'm awful sorry about Steve." He dry-swallowed and shook his head. "This should never have happened. I know it's my fault. He will be all right, won't he?"

"Come on, soldier, we knew that it was a risk to go in there. You aren't guilty of anything. As far as I heard you did a fine job protecting Steve, and he will be out of hospital in no time."

Ed seemed to be very relieved, but at the same time embarrassed about Mike's friendly words. "Thank you, Sir..."

Ironside was of the opinion that one had to get back to business now instead of mollycoddling his assistant. "At least we got a break. Ed recognized the leader of the punks who assaulted the boys. His name's Bud Hopkins. He is originally from Lynchburg in Tennessee. We checked his connections. He went to school with a certain Alex Turner, who is now a known pimp here in San Francisco and a big lover of Jack Daniel's. The latter has been apprehended half an hour ago."

"Well, that's good news! In that case I will go downstairs and do my part of the work. And you, young man, stop blaming yourself. You did great." He patted Ed's shoulder. The sergeant winced, not only because his back still hurt, but also, because his boss saw Mike doing it...

When Mike walked up the ramp the door opened and two officers brought a prisoner in.

"Chief, this is Alex Turner. You wanted him to be brought up directly."

"Thanks, officers. Sit down, Mr. Turner, and you Mike, stay here!"

The officers left and Turner sat down. There were no handcuffs, no guns, no menacing behavior of Ironside or his people, yet Mike noticed some subtle changes: Ed Brown's body seemed to tense up just a little and the look of his warm brown eyes cooled down several degrees at once. Mark Sanger, who had come out of his room to get a cup of coffee, left it on the stove and remained in the office, leaning casually against a pillar. As Ironside liked to point out: he had trained his people well and they knew what was expected from them. Maybe this was part of the secret of this successful team, their working together in such an easygoing mutual understanding.

"Sir, I protest vehemently against this unjust treatment!" ranted Turner. "I can't see why I was brought here!"

"You are an innocent citizen and you have nothing to do with prostitution or with the murders which were committed in Mission district over the last few weeks?" asked Ironside.

"Of course I am! And murders? I read about them in the newspaper. The victims were the dregs of society," he spit towards a plant in a corner, missing it by inches, "but I have nothing to do with them."

Ed glanced at his boss, and Ironside nodded just slightly. Making sure with another quick glance that Mark was alert if needed the sergeant went to the plant and placed the spittle into an evidence bag.

"Well, in that case it is your bad luck that you are a fan of whiskey. It's Jack Daniel's isn't it? The smell is good, but what you are saying literally stinks."

"You damn jerk, what are you trying to pin on me?!"

"Nothing but the truth. You should not have spit at your victims."

Ironside must have hit the jackpot, for Turner jumped up and took off towards the ramp.  
He had to pass Ed, who stretched his long leg out. Turner stumbled over it and up the ramp and Mark was quick to catch him and twist his right arm onto his back.

"Since you have him neatly fixed I suggest you bring him in that way, Mark. Ed, you go with him and do the official business."

The young men left with the prisoner.

Mike whistled approvingly through his teeth. "Bob, this was a fine demonstration of how this office works! But how did you know that Turner had spit at his victims?"

Ironside grinned widely. "I didn't know. I had smelled the whiskey on the victims, and the rest was an educated guess, and I was right, wasn't I?"

Mike nodded. "You sure were! Congratulations. Well, but now I should..."

"Hey, I don't know about your opinion whether or not Jack Daniel's is bourbon or not, but we could have some and maybe find out. Care to join me?"

"But Bob! We're on duty!"

"Well, you may be. I'm not. I'm a volunteer. I can't be dismissed...!"


	7. Chapter 7

_**April 2nd**_

With Steve in hospital Mathilde found herself at a loose end. She had thought that the most natural place for an aunt would be at her nephew's bedside, reading him stories and bringing him homemade cookies and other titbits. To her surprise Mike Stone explained, that American hospitals had very restricted visiting hours and that Steve, as a police officer injured while on duty had to be chaperoned by another member of the police when he had visitors, even close relatives. She was happy enough that Steve's nice boss accompanied her. She wouldn't have liked a stranger sitting in on the visits, brief as they were. And the poor child seemed to be asleep most of the time!

She did a bit of sightseeing and shopping, but what she really missed was a young person to take care of. So she remembered the polite young man that Steve had brought home for dinner. The old lady still was mortified that she had accidentally ruined a good pair of trousers by shortening them. So she decided to ring up Ed and ask him to come shopping with her to replace the trousers for him. She also wanted to buy a decent suit for little Stevie. She had checked his wardrobe and found nothing suitable for formal wear, all these colors and patterns!

With a determined expression on her face she picked up the phone and dialled the number the nice young man had given her. Hadn't he told her to ring her any time she needed him? And now she really needed some company and someone to look after in the absence of her Stiefelchen.

To her surprise a different voice answered the phone and she grew a bit flustered, trying to explain who she was and what she wanted.

Ironside, who had picked up the phone, immediately understood that he was talking to the old aunt who was visiting Stone's assistant. "Ed Brown? Unfortunately he is out for an hour or so, but I am sure he will be very happy to accompany you on a shopping trip."

Mattie was delighted and thanked the nice man profusely. So polite and well mannered, just like her nephew Herbert!

When Ed returned from his trip to the courts, Ironside informed him about his shopping date with the old lady. "Don't worry about the time, you can work it up over the next few nights." He generously added. "We must arrange a date to have her over for some Chili. We couldn't let her go back to Germany and miss out on the experience."

 _And what an experience that would be_ , Ed thought…

* * *

Ed and Mattie, as he called her by the end of the day, were about to return home, when the Sergeant suddenly kept the old lady back.

"Please wait here. This will only take a minute," he asked her and dropped the bags he was carrying right where he had been standing.

Mathilde's heart skipped more than one beat, when she saw the young man cross the street with his long stride and approach two young women in unmistakable clothing. They had to be... her brain refused even to _think_ of their profession or rather occupation. _Could she be such a poor judge of character? Had she been so wrong about this man? And thinking of her dear Stiefelchen... that he had been out at night with this sergeant Brown... what if he had been in contact with these women too?_

And now the Sergeant even sprinted after one of the women, who had started to run away! He outran her and then directed her back to her companion. Enraged Mathilde crossed the street, fidgeting with her umbrella, threatening the policeman.

For a second the serious young man was stunned over this fierce attack, then he managed to grab the umbrella before it hit home. He straightened up to his full height of six ft two and ordered, "Later, Madam. This is police business."

There was an unexpected authority behind his words, and she backed off immediately, retiring to her left abandoned bags.

Two uniformed policemen approached. Sgt. Brown seemed to explain something to them. The two women climbed into the black and white and where whisked away. Sgt. Brown came back to Mathilde, who addressed him, all strict, "Sergeant Brown, your behavior is absolutely unheard of. I have to admit that I am almost glad that my grandnephew is in the hospital, where he is at a safe distance from the likes of you!"

Ed had found back to his quick-thinking self. He wasn't Chief Ironside's right hand man for nothing. "Madam – let me explain this. I'm sure your nephew in Munich, Kommissar Keller, told you about the benefits of undercover work." Most probably she would not be satisfied by the idea of Steve going undercover, and the success of having brought in two important witnesses in the Mission murder case – the prostitutes with the Tennessee accent - would hardly appease her. Therefore he quickly went on, "Sometimes we use actors and actresses for such assignments." This was the truth, although it didn't apply in this case. But the mention of Kommissar Keller directed Mathilde's thinking in a new direction. If these young women were only actresses, then there was no harm done to her Stiefelchen...

"Oh, in that case... I'm sorry for interfering!"

Ed was relieved. "There was no harm done," he answered peaceably. "Let me take you home now, you must be rather disturbed by the events you witnessed."

He dropped her off at Steve's apartment and carried the load of bags upstairs for her and wanted to take his leave.

"Oh no, you must stay for dinner, I insist! It will only take a few minutes, just a quick Schnitzel with a few fried up dumplings… ", she started getting busy in the kitchen and true to her word reappeared within twenty minutes with two heaped plates, and a little side of Sauerkraut…

"And now you must allow me to let out the trousers you bought, I noticed in the shop that they were a little bit short." She giggled. "After all, it is my fault that you needed new pants!"

She rummaged through her bags. "Do you think Stevie will like the suit I bought him?"

Ed almost choked on a piece of cake – not chocolate, this time, fortunately for him, since he didn't like chocolate, not even combined with cabbage.  
"I'm sure he will. The suit is certainly different! "

She sighed. "I'm not too sure about the shirt I bought for my nephew in Munich. Maybe it is a little bit too colorful for a man in his position."

Once more Ed had to use a lot of diplomacy and a straight face to get his answer right, when he looked the purple and orange patterned shirt over. "I'm sure that's what he would expect from San Francisco."

"What I am absolutely sure of though, is the pant suit I bought for myself."

Ed's smile was genuine when he thought of the vibrant orange and magenta garment that so fitted the vibrant personality.

* * *

The following ten days of Aunt Mathilde's visit were calm in comparison to the beginning. To her great amazement Steve's release from hospital happened to be right on the day he and Ed were needed in court to give their statement for the arraignment of their assailants.

Mike faced a problem of a different kind- he wouldn't let Steve with the cracked rib sleep on the sofa, but Steve's aged aunt couldn't possibly give up Steve's bed either. So he ended up bringing both of them home with him and settled Steve in the spare room and Mattie in Jeannie's room, where Mathilde had a great time looking through Jeannie's magazines and glean some valuable fashion ideas.

Having both of them right under his nose made life much easier for Mike in many ways. So he could make sure that Steve, though he had been pronounced fit to work, wasn't subjected to auntly hugs and kisses.

"A hug could prove deadly for a man with a cracked rib," he explained the cruel restrictions on her display of affection for her beloved grandnephew.

Although Mike really liked the old lady, he was getting exhausted from playing referee and covering up for Steve, so he was happy when the visit came to an end and Mattie was supposed to go to Modesto and help Ruth, who had come out of hospital, around the house.

The last big event was the Chili Dinner that Ironside had promised to host. Ironside was looking forward to meeting the eccentric lady who had the grapevine of the Bureau going.

* * *

 _ **April 11**_ _ **th**_ _ **, Chief Ironside's office**_

When the door opened a group of three walked into Ironside's quarters. The first person who caught his eye was an old, white haired lady dressed in a very fashionable orange and magenta pant suit with floral pattern, several strings of beads dangling on her ample bosom. It didn't take any detective skills to assume that she was the famous grand aunt. Not exactly what he had expected but… On the other hand Stone's Kid Detective was not his usual self, either. He was wearing an ill-fitting dark blue and very conservatively cut suit that made him look even younger. The corners of Ironside's mouth twitched ever so slightly but when he realised that the steamed up young man was only reined in by Mike Stone's steely glare, he couldn't suppress a smile. The evening might even turn out even more pleasant than anticipated.

Mike and Steve were both carrying bags and bowls, as Mathilde Keller had insisted on making a little contribution towards the meal. "Unfortunately we have run out of Sauerkraut." She explained as she unpacked her bags, "but I made some real Bavarian delicacies, radish salad, a cheese dip and some homemade bread. Of course there will be a nice crumble cake for desert!" She smiled lovingly at Steve, who looked very sullen.

Mark declined all offers of help in heating up the Chili, so the group sat down at the octagonal table. Ed complimented the old lady on how well she looked in her new outfit.

She beamed with joy, leaned towards him and whispered. "I don't think Stevie really likes the suit I bought him. I got it a little bit bigger in case he fills out, but I had to take the arms and legs up a bit." She giggled nervously when she remembered how she had shortened Ed's trousers. "But he looks so neat in it, like a German boy on his Confirmation day."

Mathilde truly bemoaned the fact that the American Kellers had so readily given up their German heritage.

Then she turned to Ironside, the old wrinkled face lit up with a genuine smile. "I am so glad to meet you at last, Mr Ironside. Your assistant has told me so much about you!"

"Good things, I hope, Madam!" He answered.

"Only the best! He is such a polite young man, a real credit to the man who trained him!" then she checked herself and turned to Mike. "You certainly do a wonderful job with our Stevie, too. It is just that he was a bit wild as a boy and lacked discipline…"

Mike put a steadying hand on Steve's arm and Ironside detected some strain within the Keller clan, either the result of the generation gap, the cultural differences or just a clash of personalities.

With the pot of chili bubbling away on the stove, Mark had joined them, curious about the strange food that Aunt Mathilde had laid out on the table. He gingerly tried some of the cheese dip on a tiny piece of fresh, crusty bread and immediately reached for a bigger piece.

"This is lovely, ma'am. Real nice!" he praised and soon everybody was digging in, except Steve who still chewed on his first piece of bread that his aunt had heaped with cheese dip for him.

Mike eyed him suspiciously and whispered. "What's wrong now? There is not a shred of Sauerkraut in sight after I got rid of the rest yesterday."

Steve sighed and whispered back "I don't like caraway seeds…"

His aunt must have heard part of the conversation and turned around. "But you need the caraway seeds; they help you to digest the radishes!"

"How about we put some caraway seeds into the Chili, Chief, they are supposed to help digestion!" Mark quipped.

"Never change a winning formula!" Ironside replied.

Steve couldn't have agreed more, for him the Chili was certainly perfect, it seemed to be the best food he had eaten in almost three weeks. Out of deference to the old lady, the Chief had refrained from putting extra chili peppers, but Mathilde seemed to find it a little bit on the spicy side, though she was too polite to say so. She and Ironside got chatting about police work in the States and in Germany and she was genuinely delighted that the famous detective Ironside had heard of her nephew Herbert Keller. "He does favour your methods, you know, using his head rather than running around and getting beaten up. He has a staff of three young men that do all the legwork and boring stuff. All very polite and well-mannered like Ed. And Herbert is so kind and generous, always buys me tickets to visit our relatives abroad…"

Steve snorted and bit back a disparaging remark when Mike's elbow dug into his ribs. This may have gone unnoticed by Mathilde, but not by Ironside.

The conversation turned to differences between the United States and Germany and Mathilde told Ironside her sad story about not being allowed to visit her sick nephew unchaperoned in hospital. "I understand that a police officer needs special security arrangements, but what harm could an old woman like myself do!"

Steve almost choked on a spoonful of Chili, Mike looked slightly embarrassed and Ed fought hard to keep a straight face. Ironside, ever the quick thinker, looked at the trio and came to a conclusion fast. To Mathilde he said: "Regulations are regulations, I'm afraid, but they are there for a reason _._ "

 _A reason that Mike Stone will have to tell me someday soon…_ though he had a fair idea that the kid detective didn't seem to be a founding member of his aunt's growing fan club.

When the table was cleared of the Chili bowls Mathilde served her crumble cake. "It's a short crust base with a fruit filling topped with crumble." She explained the recipe to an interested Mark. "You can use apples, rhubarb, apricots."

Steve nodded appreciatively.

"Or like in this one - plums."

Steve's face fell. Mike whispered. "Let me guess- you don't like plums…"

Suddenly all the conversations around the table stopped. The reason was Ironside. Everybody was psychologically trained or sensitive enough to recognize a serious face when they saw one. And Ironside's face was _very_ serious. They followed his glance and noticed a very shaken looking Mark, who had left to get something in his room and who was now standing in his door.


	8. Chapter 8

"Mark, what's the matter?" asked the Chief in an abrasive tone.

The Afro-American shook his head as if he wanted to clear it after being knocked out. "Ed - you must have bought a pregnant hamster."

For once the sedate sergeant was the fastest to understand. He stood up and peeked into Mark's room. He shook his head as well and showed his rare smile. "No, I didn't. It's been eighteen days now since... well. Gestation lasts 16 to 18 days for Syrian hamsters. No, this is Bobby's family."

"Bobby's _what_?" Steve jumped up too. He had a sense of foreboding that the trouble would be his.

Everybody seemed to crowd Mark's room now.

Ed started to count the tiny hamsters. "Seven – eight, no, nine baby hamsters. Aren't they cute?"

Ironside stared at him in disbelief, "Cute? You sound like a parent gushing about a newborn. Cute? I'd have another adjective in mind and it starts with a u."

Mike was rather amused, "They do remind me of something, though, was it a photo that Mattie showed me?"

"At any rate I don't want any of them in my office, and I hope you, Mike, will have the sense to forbid them in yours too!" ranted Ironside.

"I think we should leave them in peace now. I don't want the mother to panic," admonished Ed reasonably.

When the older folks had sat down again – Mathilde prudently hadn't left the table – Steve pushed Ed back to the wall. "And now, pal, I demand an explanation. My hamster Bobby is a male. Male hamsters don't give birth. That implies that the hamster in there isn't Bobby. What the heck did you do with him?!"

The sergeant felt a little embarrassed, and Ironside as well as Mike looked as if they were highly interested in Ed's explanation, while Mathilde shook her head. Could it be that this well-mannered young man had wronged her Stiefelchen? If so, he would _never_ get a single piece of her cake again...

Ed tried to keep Steve away with one hand and at the same time scratch his head with the other. "Well... how can I put it..."

"Just come out with the truth!" retorted Steve angrily.

"Ok, ok, short and sweet: The day you brought Bobby in he escaped. I thought that he had died," he didn't want to mention his suspicion that Andy might have munched him, "and I bought a similar one, but as you can see Barry is a female. When Bobby showed up again, the two hamsters had a lovers' tryst, and this is the result."

Steve tried hard to keep a straight face. There was just one thing which puzzled him, knowing Ed's sincerity. He sat down and asked nonchalantly, "But why didn't you just tell me that you thought that Bobby was dead?"

Now the sergeant was at a loss for words. Ironside started to fear for the good reputation of his office and came to his rescue, "He thought that the detective kid needed his pet!"

Ed blushed, Mark grinned, Mathilde nodded understandingly, she remembered fondly how dear Ruth had fooled little Stevie for years on end by replacing a dead goldfish for an identical looking substitute to spare the poor child some heartache. Mike felt bad for Steve and Steve jumped up, pushing his plate with the crumble over _his_ suit this time, and shouted at Ironside, "Sir, with all due respect, but I'm no kid and I don't want to be called one! And... and… and if you keep doing it, Sir, I'm gonna leave right now and my aunt stays here!"

His outburst was met with uncomfortable silence; you could have heard a pin drop.

"Sorry Bob, don't mind him, he's been a bit under pressure recently." Mike pacified and then turned around to Steve "As for you, young man, show some respect, that's no way to talk about your aunt. Ever since she arrived you haven't stopped moaning and complaining. What you need is …" Mike had had enough.

Steve looked at him uncomprehendingly and dismayed. His ally, his rock during the storms of the ancestral visit was turning against him!

"Mike, really, you shouldn't treat him like a child! No wonder other people take the cue and treat him like one, too! Especially the silly name you insist on calling him." Ironside admonished. "What is it - baby boy?" He found the situation highly amusing, but did his best to hide it.

Before Mike could say something, Steve interrupted. "How dare you criticize Mike? And it's buddy boy, by the way, and if anyone else ever called me that, there would be hell to pay!"

The remainder of his tirade was muffled by Mike Stone's hand over the young man's mouth.

Mike once again addressed the Chief. "You know, Bob, the blow he got on the head two weeks ago. A sad story!" And, muttering in Steve's ear, "Watch your tongue now, or do you want to end up in the Chief's Chili pot?"

Aunt Mathilde turned towards Ed for help. "I really don't get what all this commotion is about. Why is there a problem treating Stevie like a child? But he's only a baby! Next thing someone will tell me to stop calling him Stiefelchen!"

* * *

 _ **May 2nd**_

Three weeks later Mike was in his office, looking out through the glass towards his partner's desk. Most of it was taken up with a big cage, containing nine adolescent hamsters, four girls and five boys, divided by the slightly nibbled but nevertheless still useful partition that Ed Brown had put in almost six weeks ago, after Bobby met Barry. The nine young hamsters were ready to go to their new homes.

Steve and Ed had been very busy finding good homes - and in the absence of "good" – just homes for them. Especially Steve had been very inventive and started a veritable hamster lottery. He deliberately lured his colleagues into having a bet with him - the loser winning a hamster. Very often the person landed with the little rodent talked someone else into a bet to try and get rid of the hamster again. Hamsters - or taking a hamster of someone's hands, rather - was used as a bribe for swapping shifts and doing favors. So some of the little fur balls must have switched owners several times, but today was the day the big scheme ended, all hamsters had to be claimed and taken home. Steve, on his way to pick up Aunt Mathilde from Modesto, had brought Barry with him, his Aunt Ruth had promised to give her a good home.

To everybody's surprise even Aunt Mathilde, who was the cause for all the hamster migrations and multiplications, had eventually succumbed to the charm of the hamsters and had almost taken up Steve on his offer to bring one of the hamsters back to Germany with her. Ed Brown had been seriously perturbed by the idea; he had visions of the plane going down, because of a hamster nibbling its way through the wires.

Mike's train of thought was interrupted by the arrival of Chief Ironside who wheeled himself through the bull pen. He shot one disdainful look at the hamster cage and proceeded towards Mike's office. "Where is Ed? I remember distinctly giving him the morning off and now it is afternoon", he asked.

"Hello Bob and how are you?" Mike greeted him pointedly. "As you know, Ed wanted to accompany Steve to Modesto to oversee the hamster/aunt exchange in person." He smiled. "I think he wanted to meet Barry's future custodian."

Ironside snorted. "For a fairly rational person he got quite attached to the little rat. I'd expect that kind of behavior from your kid detective, but not from a man I trained myself."

"Aw, come on, Bob, people who care for animals generally care for people, too, and isn't that what we want from our coworkers?"

"Assistants, you mean?" Ironside corrected and threw another glance at the hamster cage. "I don't understand how Olson allows this kind of carry on. In my time…"

"Yeah, yeah, you would have thrown the hamster infestation to the department cat."

Ironside almost smiled as he watched the black cat gazing at the hamster cage with great interest. _Watching a cookery program_ , he thought _. Just waiting to pounce..._

Ironside and Stone didn't have to wait much longer, though. Soon enough Ed Brown and Steve Keller appeared around the corner, chatting away.

Steve was in particularly high spirits, he had a spring in his step, whistling a merry tune. He stopped briefly to tickle the cat's ears and distribute a generous handful of sunflower seeds among the hamster siblings who lifted their pink noses expectantly when they recognized the familiar figure. But then he and Ed saw that Mike Stone had a visitor in his office and both fell silent. They looked at each other, shrugged and without dawdling they went straight for Mike's office to receive what they had coming… Steve handed each of the men a little parcel. "Some cake," he explained. "Aunt Mathilde was very sorry you couldn't make it today but is hoping to see you when she comes to visit next."

Mike didn't reply. He could have easily made the round trip to Modesto and back, but had felt that Ed Brown was a better travel companion on this occasion.

"You sure look full of beans today!"

"Yep, Aunt Ruth's cooking, not Aunt Mathilde's. Not a shred of Sauerkraut in her kitchen." He sounded very happy.

Ed nodded appreciatively, too. He certainly had enjoyed the meal in Modesto, but he also had enjoyed all the delicacies - with or without Sauerkraut- that Mattie had provided.

"So I take it your Aunt Ruth's arm has healed well." Mike inquired curiously, remembering how Steve had accused his aunt of malingering to get out of hosting the visit.

"It has. I even saw the x rays, it was definitely a fracture." The young man had to admit. "I think she and Aunt Mathilde actually enjoyed the remaining three weeks of her stay." He sounded incredulous.

"Now, then, Buddy boy, order is restored. All hamsters have found homes and the aged ancestor is travelling back to the homeland." Mike watched Steve closely, as a shadow seemed to fall over his face.

"Well… there is actually one male hamster left. You know that today is the deadline that Rudy had set for the departure of all hamsters from the office."

Both Ironside and Ed watched the exchange silently, but with great interest.

"Wouldn't Bobby like some company?" Mike suggested.

"Oh no, hamsters are solitary creatures, two males would fight!" Steve explained.

"How about Rudy?" Mike asked. He hadn't failed to notice that every time the Captain passed through the office, he stopped to watch the little hamsters play. Ed and Ironside exchanged a surprised look, though the Chief had always suspected that Rudy was way too soft.

"He took one of the females to set an example."

"Bill Tanner?"

"Readily took one for his kids."

"Mark? I'm sure he'd love one!"

"No way! He could barely sleep with the racket that the infernal creature created every night and I will not have my staff distracted by keeping pets, especially not in my quarters!" Ironside vetoed.

"Norm?"

"Won one in a bet, fair and square!" Steve paused for a moment. "Aw, Mike, I was thinking, err… that maybe you would like a hamster, they're great company, you know and I'm sure Jeannie would be delighted. She mentioned something like that to me…"

"Did she now?" though Mike's voice sounded silken, there was a hint of steel.

Steve had the decency to blush and he nodded.

"Conspiring with my daughter behind my back! I should really leave you stuck with the rodent!" he threatened.

"Mike, I'll work any amount of overtime you want over the next week…" he looked at his mentor's face and sighed. "Okay, two weeks, I'll supply the cage and you get to pick the hamster you want!" he added to clinch the deal.

Ironside watched the scene in disbelief. A man he had trained would never use doing overtime as a bargaining point, he would just do what was necessary. And Stone even listening to such infamous talk, the Chief could barely contain his consternation. Ed Brown, on the other hand, seemed to be amused.

"Who could say no to that offer, okay, I'll take my pick!" Mike gave in.

He went over to the spacious cage with Steve, Ed and Ironside following him. Once more nine curious pink noses stuck through the bars of the cage and eighteen tiny paws clung to the rails. Ironside noticed the partition that was still in place.

"Ed, what in the blazes were you thinking of when you put the crime compendia in the rats' cage!" Ironside thundered when he saw the sorry state of his books, nibbled and shredded by sharp little teeth.

"Sir, they were the best thing at hand to keep male and female apart and they still serve the purpose admirably," Ed defended his action.

"We are talking of books of great historic value and I insist that you replace them at your own expense," Ironside insisted.

Ed fought hard to keep a straight face, especially as he could see Mike and Steve behind Ironside's back. Steve was shaking with suppressed laughter, Mike's hand covering his mouth while Mike himself did his best to appear serious.

"Well, Sir, I certainly see your point and I will be more than happy to replace the volumes as soon as somebody _requires_ them." Ed assured him.

"… which may happen in a hundred years or so…" Steve muttered under his breath and was rewarded with a dig in the ribs from his mentor.

Mike then decided that the young people were sailing a bit too close to the wind, or rather an Ironside storm and returned to the hamster business on hand. "Which ones are the males? I'm not taking a risk and bring home a pregnant female."

Steve pointed at the right side of the cage and was fast to explain. "Ed swears we divided them up early enough, so there should be no unpleasant surprises, and I would trust Ed on that!"

Ed smiled when he heard his friend's vote of confidence. Ironside frowned, as his attention was drawn to the ruined books again.

Mike scrutinized the five male hamsters; one looked slightly different, its fur was a bit longer than that of the siblings and parents, probably some kind of a throwback. "I like the shaggy one. He reminds me of someone I know." He looked pointedly at Steve's hair that, in the absence of the dreaded aunt, was curling around the collar again.

"Good choice, Mike, is that what you're gonna call him, Shaggy?"

A wide grin spread on Mike's face. "I was thinking along completely different lines, actually. I thought I'd keep in with the B theme, you know, the parents are Bobby and Barry. I thought Bootee would be a great name, don't you think so, Stiefelchen?"

* * *

 ** _Authors' note:_**

 _So this is the end of our mathematical story, but only the beginning of Bobby's family tree.  
The result of our initial calculation is obviously... well... doesn't your hamster's name start with a B?_  
 _Thanks, people, for reading our story!_  
 _Briroch and Mounty_


End file.
